Ginny Weasley Regrets
by ifyourstillfreestartrunning
Summary: What do you do when you realise that your life has fallen into disrepair? Why, you leave your husband and move to the middle of the country side of course. D/G Mature content.
1. Chapter 1

'So anyway, Justin here turned to me and said, "Okay Lavender if you're such a brilliant chaser, how about a game of strip shootout in the field" — expecting me to faint or reach for the vapours or something. So I said, "All right you bastard, you're on!"

I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves and gazed at my possibly insane hostess over the enormous hunk of polished mahogany that passed as a dining table. I couldn't bring myself to look over at Seamus's wife, Padma, down the other end.

'So out we all went with our brooms,' Lavender went on, 'drunk as skunks — well Justin and I certainly were — into the meadow and someone managed to focus long enough to send up the quaffles and I jumped on Daddy's Fire bolt and somehow got up in the air and — well!' She paused, suspending her tale just long enough to draw a few dutiful gasps of admiration from her guests. 'Blow me if I caught every one of those quaffles and these bastards didn't get a dicky bird!'

Raucous laughter and much table thumping greeted this, particularly from my husband who was going to put his fist through his side plate in a minute. I watched as he roared away his long, dull face gleaming as red as handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket, upper lip perspiring freely, eyes gleaming lasciviously behind their small rounded lenses.

"And did they?' he gasped between snorts of mirth. 'Strip?'

'You bet they did!' came back the guffawing Lavender. 'Right out of their dress robes, every one of them! I had them standing to attention presenting arms — amongst other things — Ha ha!'

'Oh Lavender, you i_didn't/i!'_ shrieked a horsey looking girl to my left. 'You are a i_scream/i_!'

Yes, wasn't she just? I didn't notice Padma, Justin's wife, screaming too much though. I glanced at her flushed face. She'd just about managed to bare her teeth in a brave attempt at a smile as she pushed a piece of Brie around her plate. I sipped at my goblet again and flashed a look at Lavenders husband, Seamus, wondering how he was taking all this. Apparently, judging by the way he was doubled up in mirth, spluttering mead down his maroon dress robes, he couldn't have been more pleased that his wife took such a keen interest in other men's anatomy.

As I gazed around at the rest of the assembled port-swilling, braying throng, it did occur to me to wonder, though, whether I was being entirely fair here. Wasn't I a little bit prejudiced on account of the company? A little bit prejudiced? If this had been a dinner party at one of _my _friends houses for instance, and it had been Luna, or Hermione doing the story telling, would I have found it amusing? Wasn't it just the fact that it was one of Harry's friends that made it so silly and childish?

'Ginny, get that Mead moving,' bellowed my shy hostess. 'I've got one hell of a thirst on over here!'

'Oh, sorry.' I dutifully shoved along the oversized crystal jug, only just holding in the urge to throw it over her smarmy blonde curls and run. However I held myself back, it wouldn't do to be unlady-like. I cleared my throat which was dry from lack of use.

'Actually, I said bravely, trying to catch Harry's bloodshot eye, 'I think we better make a move soon, I told the baby-sitter midnight and its half past already...'

'Is it?' Lavender flashed her goblin made watch at the assembled crowd. 'Christ! I've got a bridge lesson first thing in the morning, Come on, you lot, get out of here. I'll get the house elves out in a minute.'

There was alot of laughing and scraping back of chairs but not many bottoms were off the tapestry seat covers as quickly as mine. Two seconds later I had my coat on and my bag from the waiting house elf at the door and hung them firmly over my shoulder. Ten minutes later I was still standing by the door smiling fixedly while Harry circled the group basking in congratulations. He always did the same elongated round of leave-taking, slapping backs heartily and accepting praise whenever he could.

'Seamus! Good to see you again, how long has it been? Really! That long, well I was very busy after the battle rebuilding the ministry - Oh you embarrass me, but yes I was considering running for minister.'

His demeanour in the last five years had veered violently from humble modesty to outright arrogance and a huge and irritatingly soppy smirk that seemed constantly pasted on his long thin face.

'Gin? Ginevra!' Harry's voice broke through my musings.

'Wake up Gin! Really, do try and pay more attention to things darling. Always off in a world of her own that one.' He turned to the small admiring crowd assembled around him rolling his eyes.

'Violence is not the answer. Violence is not the answer. Violence is i_not/i_ the answer!' I chanted in my head. My patience always started to slip when Harry made me look like a fool in front of his friends.

'Seamus and Padma have invited us to stay in Yorkshire with them next weekend, isn't that fantastic?'

Oh yes fabulous. I can't wait to spend yet another weekend with your rich and self important friends. Hooray.

That didn't seem the correct response, however. So I gritted my teeth and barely managed to pull my face into a ridiculously false smile as I nodded politely at Seamus.

Finally we were nearly at the door but Lavender waylaid us, her ridiculously big hair bouncing all over the place and her voluptuous body squeezed into a ridiculously tight and revealing set of silk dress robes.

'Ginny, dear, you simply i_must/i _bring Harry to the next Ministry ball.' She brayed haughtily. 'Daphne and I organised it, Daphne Greengrass you know, her father owns the Wingbourn Wasps, very well connected, and it will be simply i_divine/i. _ Oh do say you'll come!'

'Yes, that would be lovely wouldn't it, old thing? Said Harry in his usual, self satisfied tones.

'Oh!' She squealed. 'Ginny you can come with me and the girls to Ballroom dancing lessons. I know your crap, but no on minds really.'

I would sooner have performed an amputation curse on my legs. But manners restrained me to shooting Harry a pained look and grudgingly turning to Lavender with a fake smile plastered on my face.

'Yes, that sounds— wonderful.' I said stiffly.

But Lavender had already turned away and stalked off to bray loudly at someone else.

I tried to ignore the Hallelujah chorus in my head as at that very moment Harry caused a slight diversion by stumbling drunkenly sideways and knocking over a priceless looking vase that promptly smashed into a million fragments on the marble floors. It was a testament to just how loud the snorting and braying of the crowd was that they didn't hear the resounding crash.

'i_Repairo/i!_' I muttered franticly.

The pieces of vase dragged themselves together and then settled back down with a little clunk by the door. I pulled Harry out before he could cause anymore damage.

The icy winter air hit me in the face as we wobbled down the drive. It was refreshing after the thick, stale smell of the oversized country manor behind us. I gave a sigh of relief as it enveloped us and walked quickly over the slippery path to the apparation point. I stood poised with my wand drawn and waited for Harry made his slow, stumbling progress over the ground. He reached me and started fumbling in his pockets for his wand, after about two minutes I had to pull it out of the holster on his hip for him.

'Ah well done, old thing,' he patted my hand. 'Very well done indeed. I think that went extremely smoothly. Nine and a half, I'd say.'

I ground my teeth and steadied his leaning body. 'Good.' I murmured, wisely keeping my counsel. I had given up on fighting Harry over his nail-bitingly frustrating habit of giving an evening marks out of ten when we'd just been to dinner at the home of someone who owned a large share of Gringotts or had a huge post war settlement or any other sort of approved wealth that he might sponge of off. No, the last thing I wanted to do was a heated argument on the way home, only to crawl into bed with a raging headache, tossing and turning all night as Harry snored for England beside me.

I tried to lead him into the apparation booth but he hadn't quite finished.

'Just one little point, darling,' He murmured. 'You were a bit quiet tonight, a bit mousy. You must try to loosen up with my friends, they won't bite. You just need a bit of confidence.' There was a pause. 'Oh, and one other thing. I overheard you talking to Justin about Dragon Breeding act, it's always referred to as the DBA. A little point but something to remember, eh?'

I didn't answer but I ground my teeth some more. _Dont rise Ginny, dont rise._

'Alright to side-along tonight, old thing? I've had a tad too much to drink.' He went on sleepily.

'Of course it's alright Harry.' I hissed. I dont even know why he bothered asking anymore, he is always too drunk to apparate without ending up in a field somewhere with one of his arms missing.

I sighed and half carried, half dragged him through the sliding door. We almost got stuck; Harry's drunken state made him extremely difficult to manoeuvre through any small spaces.

'What sort of doors are they putting on these bloody things nowadays? A man can't be broad shouldered in a society like this!' He roared indignantly at no one in particular.

We ended up in the small booth with him leaning against the panel with a thoroughly pissed look on his face. Eventually I managed to twist myself into a pocket of open space that was only just big enough for me to stand.

Grasping Harry's arm hard, I span on the spot, nearly suffocating myself in the process, and thought of our house as hard as I could. We fell through the darkness for a moment before landing hard on the cold pavement outside our Georgian townhouse. Harry staggered to his feet and stood looking a little deranged.

_iOh god,/i _I suddenly thought, i_what if he tries to break in through the windows again?/i _To pre-empt this little bout of acrobatics I grabbed a hold of his bony arm again and, gritting my teeth tried to push him through the gate.

Harry however, had other plans. He sauntered, swaying dangerously, down the lamp lit street, dragging me along with him. A street bench loomed out from under an old ash tree. Apparently finding what he was looking for, he stumbled a little closer and dropped himself ungracefully into a sitting position, smacking his lips together and letting his eyelids droop onto his cheeks, he prepared himself for a good kip. Completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing shivering next to him.

'Harry! What if someone sees you?' I hissed franticly.

He just snored on quite happily.

My fruitless attempts to rouse him only made me more frustrated so I collapsed on the wooden shafts next to him, holding my head in my hands.

_What happened to us. _I wondered looking at his elongated, sallow face. How can something that seemed so perfect and right turn into, well, this? What would I have though five years ago sailing down the aisle in ivory silk that Harry James Potter, hero of the Wizarding world, the man I owed the lives of my whole family, that someday I would only be able to look at him and feel only disgust. Of course I would have laughed it off, my Harry? Never.

I always used to fantasize about us having some sort of incredible bond; that nothing could ever have come between the famous Harry Potter and his Ginny Weasley. I actually willed myself into believing that the hero always got the girl, Harry obviously being my hero, and that a mix of teenage infatuation and lust could form a functioning relationship. A belief that I'm sure originated from the infinite amount of romance books and sappy idealistic poems that my mother had been throwing at me since I could read. Though at the same time I can't help feeling that it was also more than a little relief at finally having something solid after so much loss and confusion? A little bit of self importance at being the one who snagged 'the boy who lived'?

Oh, my mother had been ecstatic at the thought of me marrying the most famous, influential wizard of the age. Even better that he came from a pure blood line (his muggle-born mother seemingly being overlooked on account of his fame), and a sure job lined up at the ministry. Not that he needed it of course; he only had to walk into a shop to have half its contents bagged and gift wrapped and handed to him by a hoard of hangers on and admirers.

And there was me, a wide-eyed child that clung to his arm as he talked his way through press releases and consoled mourning families, kissed babies, signed autographs and all the other things that heroes usually do.

Unfortunately, as humble as he had been before, it was not long before the fame started to rush to his head and nowadays he had developed a god complex. Ron and Hermione could barely even stand his company anymore, in fact at little Hugo's christening Ron had actually punched Harry in the face for 'accidently' tipping the paparazzi that he would be coming and causing the little Oxfordshire church to be filled with flashing lights and screaming reporters. They hadn't spoken since.

But for me it was an impossible situation. Ron had been my main link with Harry, the one who had really been in control of our relationship. And now they wouldn't even acknowledge each other's presence. Still, it was almost as if ever since he had become friends with Ron that I was destined to be with him. I felt that I owed him love, almost as if it were my duty rather than my pleasure, that he deserved to be loved. Of course my family expected me to marry him, as did most of the Wizarding world, and I imagine Harry did to. I fit the bill I suppose; I was naive, innocent and came from a family of good breeders, the perfect mix to create lots of little heirs to the Potter name. I suppose the fiery streak that ran through the blood of all Weasleys was the only little snag, but over time Harry had managed to quash that part of me by treating me like an idiot and forcing his views into every little choice I could make. But hey, he was happy and that's all that really mattered, wasn't it?

When the proposal itself came, a very awkward affair that involved Harry sort of bobbing down on one knee and pulling out a ring that held a rock the size of a baby's head and giving me that sappy, ego fuelled hero smile that he used for the reporters, I didn't really feel that I had any choice in the matter.

Mummy, of course, had been delighted. She'd opened the door, taken a look at the whopping great sapphire on my hand and almost gone down on her knees and kissed the hem of his robes, she was so excited. Beaming widely, she'd taken a firmly by the arm and marched him straight into the sitting room to draw up the guest list. From then on it was a toboggan ride down to the altar. Mummy in the lead with her wand rarely out of her hand.

'Imagine, the life my little girl is going to get! Bagging the most famous wizard of the age,' I heard her squeak excitedly, to Hestia Jones, in the kitchen of the burrow about a week before the wedding. 'And all these connections he's got at the ministry, he was telling me only the other day that he had lunch with the minister himself last Tuesday! Our Ginny might end up being even better off than Ron and Hermione!'

This was almost too orgasmic for words and they bothsquealed with delight, because Ron's marriage, frankly, was hard to beat.

They had really done the Weasleys proud. Ron was not only a very handsome, muscular, well built man with a great deal of love for his children and wife, but he was one of the most well accomplished Aurors working for the ministry. Hermione, of course had passed her N.E. with flying colours and had landed a job as sectary to the minister himself — oh yes, extremely intelligent.

Yes, Ron had 'bagged' himself the perfect girl, the perfect job and now had a very comfortable life with three kids running around his beautiful old house and the whole place dripping with happiness. The whole situation was so frustratingly perfect that, if I didn't love him, I'd think him a terribly smug git. But good old Ronald, he remained perfectly modest and humble. Damn him.

Strangely enough, me marrying into such famous family awoke all the latent snobbery in my mother's heart that I never knew existed. Determined as ever, she had decided that this was going to be the wedding that a Hero and his fiancé should receive, no matter what affect it had on the Weasley bank account. She went into over-drive the moment the wedding was announced.

One day I was being whisked wide eyed up and down Diagon alley as if my life depended on it, the next she had me scrambling in and out of white dress robes at madam Malkins, bullying everyone so much that she reduced the assistants and even me to tears, dragging me into the travel agents to check the arrangements for our honeymoon, so that for one awful moment I was so confused I thought I was marrying my mother. All of this enthusiasm is usual for the mother of the bride was not unusual of course but Molly Weasley took it upon herself to blow up every aspect of the wedding to astounding proportions. I sometimes wondered if she was making up for her own marriage, which had been held in the cellar of the hogshead just after she and Dad had run away from home.

The more the wedding advanced, the more she and Harry got on famously, with mummy dribbling in her soup as snippets of his sob story and his new well-connected position fell from his lips. It didn't seem to matter that Harry didn't actually have a job, that he didn't have much money and that all he owned was a dusty old house in London that he refused to go to. The moment he lost his train of thought and pulled off one of his well rehearsed looks into the distance with those dull, empty eyes, my mother would literally writhe around on the floor, kick her heels and beg for more. She thought Harry was a right little tragic saviour and the sun shone from his every orifice.

I remember going upstairs with her one night, after tea Harry had enthralled us all with another rendition of his escape from the mer-people (which, incidentally seemed to get more violent and tragic each time it was told, it now included a terrible struggle with the giant squid and several casualties), she had actually squeezed my waist on the landing as she said goodnight.

'You've done it, Ginny,' she breathed, 'you've really done it!

I stared at her in amazement, and I remember thinking, how odd. After all those years of disapproval, all those years of scruffy clothes and unsuitable friends and no ambition, of giving her nothing but disapproval, in one stroke I'd pulled it off. I'd won her approval, maybe even her respect.

But five years on, I wasn't sure if any of that was worth it. Harry was not the man I had imagined at all: dull, unsophisticated and self-important, he was a very difficult husband to adapt to.

For example, I don't think he has ever lifted a finger at home. Every time I have asked him to wash the dishes or take the dog for a walk he suddenly has terrible flash backs from the war and can't stand to do anything other than collapse in bed and have a cup of tea brought to him. At first I was sympathetic to his constant complaining, after all he had just saved the entire Wizarding world from death and destruction. But after a little while I noticed that his memories never seemed to be bothering him when he had been invited to a 'high society' get-together with all his friends or yet another 'Praise potter' party.

I know it sounds bitter but I do honestly thank Harry for saving everyone from Voldemort and his death eaters, but honestly. How long can he bounce along on the pity and admiration of others before he actually does something with his life?

Harry had given me one thing though, the thing I prize most in the world. He had given me James, my beautiful boy. Born nine months after our wedding, he is the joy in my life. The main reason I hadn't thrown in the towel and left Harry after one of his drunken escapades or stupid money loss.

The thought of James made me smile, it felt good to smile. It was only really him that could make me smile for real nowadays, not the fake baring of teeth I plastered on my face at social occasions with Harry's friends.

I looked again at Harry's prone figure, his knobbly figures clasped over his rising and falling chest. Could I rekindle some of that feeling that we used to have? If not love, then at least tenderness. There must have been some magic at the beginning; I had to try, for James's sake.

I reached out and stroked his hand.

'Harry, love?' I murmured gently shaking his shoulder.

Not a flicker, on he snored.

'Harry, we're home.'

He smacked his lips and turned his face the other way.

'Harry.' I shook his shoulder a bit more vigorously. 'Come on, it's cold out here, wake up.' I shook him harder still. 'Come on, dear.'

'Bugger off!' He mumbled shifting to his side.

My hand froze on his.

'Well bugger you too, you stupid fat bastard!' I roared.

Yes, well, that had really brought back the magic hadn't it? Really summoned up some tenderness. I sighed. God If only I'd married a man with a bit of passion, I'd never have had this problem.

I can't honestly recall why I was so infatuated with him. It was probably greatly to do with the fact that I was physically and emotionally exhausted after the battle and, sitting there in the great hall surrounded by dead friends and family

I looked at Harry, anger still coursing strongly through my veins. I considered leaving him there until morning but the last time I had done that he had awoken at four in the morning and seen fit to bang the front door down and sing 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor' very loudly through the letter box, waking up the whole house and most of the neighbours.

I leaned over and found his ear.

'Harry!' I shouted, 'If you stay out here then you'll freeze to death.'

My eyes burned briefly in their tired old sockets at this rare moment of conviction but I bade them dim. Yet on he snored.

'Right!' I screeched importantly. 'That's it!'

It was time for a last resort; a method only used on a handful of occasion due to its inherent danger, but tonight was going to be one of them. Angrily I got onto all fours like a dog on the bench and started pushing him off the side. It was like moving a mountain, he barely shifted. I put my shoulder against his and shoved for all I was worth, swearing and cursing, puffing and panting, when into my line of vision came an tall and vaguely familiar blonde man walking his dog.

He stopped and watched with apparent interest.

'He's going to fall on the pavement and crack his head open.' He observed at length.

'That's the idea' I muttered, teeth gritted.

There was a pause.

'Ah.' He nodded. Reassured, he moved on up the street.

Interesting conversation that, I thought, panting heavily. Obviously it was all right for me to commit wilful grievous bodily harm on my husband, it was accidental that bothered him.

Eventually In a burst of superhuman strength, I managed to roll him far enough that he started to slide from the bench but at the last second he managed to pull a foot round and catch himself. Yes well he always _did, _didn't he?

I sat panting, incredibly Harry was now pulling himself to his feet. Extraordinary, I thought, I have never met a man with such an irritating habit of survival.

Unfortunately it seemed, Harry, like the poor, would always be with us.

Eventually, he decided the time was ripe to drag himself to bed. I ran ahead of him to catch him before he got to the door.

'Well done.' He muttered as I opened the door and hustled him through. 'Well done, old thing'

Oh yes, I forgot to mention that. Not only had I lost my surname when I married Harry, but my first name also. I was Ginny Weasley no longer, I was Old thing Potter now.

As I breathlessly steered him to the lounge, Victoire, our baby sitter and niece, was already getting up from her chair, folding up a roll of parchment and slipping it in her bag.

'Had a good evening?' She asked shyly, smiling her brilliant smile. Her mother's looks were not lost in her; however she did have Charlie's warm hazel eyes.

I beamed at her; she was a lovely thing really. Bill and Fleur had produced six children at this stage, with a seventh on the way, and at fourteen, she lacked funding for her expanding wardrobe.

'Lovely, thanks, Victoire '(she hated Vicky)'how about you? Has James been all right, everything ok?'

She beamed up at me shyly.

'He was an angel as always, but he came down at about ten asking for a drink so I gave him some Pumpkin juice and sent him back up to bed..' She trailed off in a slightly questioning tone.

I smiled encouragingly at her, 'Thank you, that's exactly what I would have done.'

At this point harry decided to make his presence known by belching loudly and trundling unstably down the hall to the bathroom. But instead of turning left he turned right to the walk-in closet under the stairs. Before I could stop him he had unzipped his trousers and the undeniable sound of liquid against fabric made me think of Victoires new velvet robes that I had hung there hours earlier.

Victoires horrified face looked up at me and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.

When Harry had finished he blinked blearily then turned towards us.

'Awfully sorry Vicky dear, 'he slurred, 'but I appear to have pissed all over your robes.'

That was it. At that moment I knew I could not live with this man for a moment longer, the story of Harry and Ginny had finally come to an end. The bastard.

5


	2. Chapter 2

If you think that I'm the sort of girl who would give up on her marriage after a single drunken escapade then you are sorely mistaken. This was merely the straw that snapped the camels' spine.

This isn't the first time either; I've packed my bags more times than I could count. Gotten down the road twice and once, after Harry decided to erect a statue of himself on the front lawn, spent a night at my parents house.

But I hadn't ever gotten truly away. Completely contrary to my usual stubborn disposition, I just couldn't leave Harry. I had James to think about now, not just my own happiness, and for all Harry's faults he was a good father to the boy. He took him out for romps over the fields near the burrow and had been given the 'bestest daddy in the world' title after buying him a toy broom stick that caused his little face to light up like a bonfire.

However this time my mind was set. I opened my eyes and listened for a moment, Harrys raucous snores from beside me gently shook the bed frame and the rise and fall of his plump chest reassured me that he was asleep.

I slipped out of bed and padded over to the cupboard to fetch my dressing gown. I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror and came to a halt. Two large and tired looking brown eyes looked determinedly back at me from the midst of a mane of wild red hair.

I bit my lip; the mirror showed me a face that was so tired. I had lost so much of my former vigour. When had my skin turned so grey?

But my sex appeal wasn't important. I focused on my eyes.

Did I look different? Did I look determined, decisive, as if I meant business?

Well, no, probably not. But that was not the important thing, this time I meant it. This time I was certain, this time I was off.

I crept around the bedroom pulling on leggings and a baggy old jumper, being careful not to wake my snoring husband. Then I stole from the room, being sure to shut the door quietly behind me.

"Mu-mmy! Mu-mmy! Muuu-mmmy!"

The steady chant that had originally woken me was getting louder now, and as I stumbled my way across the landing to the adjacent door I felt like a quidditch player running out from the tunnel to the roar of hundreds of fans.

"Muu-MMMYYYY" It crescendoed as I opened the door.

"Ja-mie!" I responded enthusiastically as I reached his bed and pulled him into a hug. He smelled divine, snuggling into my shoulder. After a few moments I dropped him back in his bed and pulled some clean clothes out of his drawer.

James's big green eyes stared at me in amazement. Pyjamas were usually perfectly acceptable at the breakfast table.

"Sorry, darling," I muttered, pulling his legs into trousers and raising him to his feet. "Got to get out of here this morning. Got to get a wiggle on eh?"

He stared at me as if I had gone mad. _Well, James my boy,_ I thought seriously, _I probably have._

We hurried downstairs and James watched from his bean bag as I whizzed around the kitchen with my wand at the ready, flicking a hand at the dishes, another at the kettle and bending down to light the oven for James's toast.

We chatted happily about nothing as James munched away at his toast.

I badly wanted to go and break the news to Luna and I was keen to leave before Harry had a chance to wake up and intercept me. I didn't particularly want him to come down and read the marital meltdown message I was sure was written all over my face.

But no such luck. Ten minutes later, just as I was clearing the last of James's toast from his plate the doorway was filled with blue pinstriped pyjamas.

Harry yawned, stretched, and scratched his head like a great bear.

"Oh, blimey. I feel a bit liverish this morning." He patted his stomach tentatively. This was Harrys usual euphemism for a massive hangover. He plodded over to give me a sloppy kiss on the cheek then lowered himself into his seat at the kitchen table, waiting to be served. I clenched my teeth and set about making tea.

"You're dressed early." He remarked.

"Am I?" I said guiltily. "Oh well, I just thought, since it's such a lovely morning, I'd take James for a walk in the park." I surreptitiously pointed my wand at the blinds to hide the moody gray sky from view.

Harry snorted incredulously and unfolded his news paper. The idea of exercise had never appealed to Harry unless a broom was involved, and even if it was he had barely been near a broom since the end of the war. The pot belly spilling from the bottom of his pyjama top was a clear indication of this.

I finished stirring his tea and set it in front of him.

"Nasty feeling I'm in disgrace."He muttered between swigs, "Seem to remember I was a bit out of order last night."

"No more than usual." I said lightly.

"Do telly Vicky that I'm sorry won't you? Spastic colon." For a moment I thought he was insulting Victoire but then he went on, "Mediwizard says it's quite common among wizards of my age and with my levels of stress."

Stress? I boggled into the washing up.

"Says it's all linked up with my war wounds." He pushed his hair absentmindedly of his forehead revealing his lightning scar. A well practised move, usually reserved for crowds of admirers and journalists.

"Ah, right." Personally I couldn't see what a scar and a few cuts and bruises had to do with him peeing all over the coat cupboard, but I let it pass. "You should probably go and get that looked at, do you remember I booked you an appointment with that therapist, someone Dean recommended on Harley Street. Did you ever go?"

"Certainly not," he growled. "I don't want some sappy specialist telling me I have some made up personality disorder then charging me an arm and a leg."

"Actually, I think she specialised in psychosexual studies. Childhood troubles, that sort of thing."

"Merlin's beard!" Harry spat his tea across the table. "The lengths some woman will go to get their hands on a fellow."

"Whatever do you mean Harry?"

He pulled a face.

"All these psychiatrist types are simply trying to get inside your head and seduce you, don't get sucked in by it Old thing, it's just a load of hogwash."

I smothered a chuckle.

"Harry, do you really think a woman would spend five or so years studying for her degree, simply so she may one day get the chance to seduce a married man with abusive parents?"

"Don't joke Ginny," he growled, " Believe me there are some desperate woman out there."

I bit the inside of my cheek and turned away under the pretence of drying my hands so I could smirk without Harry seeing.

"Oh, I don't doubt it Harry." I stated, turning back to face him. "You're right, it's no joke. It's not safe for a man like you to walk the streets along today with all these predatory woman about. I'm amazed you even venture out of the house without your cloak."

Harry gave me a quick suspicious look.

"What's up with you today? You're not your usual self. You're very... puckish."

"Am I?" I dropped my eyes. "Sorry"

I instantly stopped the puckishness and reverted to doormat mode, hiding my smirking face in the sink and set a pan to be scrubbed viciously. I mustn't get too overconfident or he would notice that something was amiss. The last thing I wanted was for Harry to suspect anything. This situation definitely called for a quick clean break.

Luckily James caused a diversion.

"Gin, Gin look he's dribbling." Harry said, disgusted.

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"It's just a bit of milk Harry." I muttered, moving forwards with a cloth and whipping the line of spittle from the corner of James' mouth. "You could try to help me, you know."

But Harry had already lost interest. He had picked up the prophet and was leafing contentedly through to find the crossword section.

For a few minutes I continued my jobs around the house and started whipping down the counters when Harry cleared his throat.

"I say Gin, do you think you are going to Lavenders tomorrow morning for bridge?"

"No Harry, I have James tomorrow, nursery is off this week remember?"

"Can't you take him with you?"

I turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Why on earth would I take him to Bridge Harry? What's he going to do, sit and count the rubbers?"

He frowned.

"Aren't rubbers condoms or something? Why would be using condoms in a game of cards Old thing? Isn't that a bit saucy." He shook his head and chuckled.

I bridled.

"No Harry. It's a bridge term."

He snorted with derision.

"Can't you get a nanny like the rest of the mums."

I clenched my teeth and gripped the edge of the counter to contain my anger. This was an age old bone of contention between Harry and me. He saw no fault in dumping the kids with some random woman and gallivanting off on quidditch weekends or house parties. I, on the other hand, believed strongly in bringing up my own child. I cringed at the thought of running off out the door and leaving James with a complete stranger every morning. It was a matter of pride.

And after all, we could never afford a nanny on our budget. Harry had no real job to speak of and we still lived off his parents account in Gringotts.

"Fine then." He announced haughtily. "But don't expect invitations to ministry balls to just fall into your lap Gin. You have to be prepared to put in a bit of groundwork first."

Ah, so that's what this is about. The Christmas Ministry ball in the Highlands. Well yes because it had been _such_ fun last year hadn't it.

We had arrived in the evening to the ancient old Scottish castle, situated just by a lake. The place had been an absolute shambles with decorators firing hexes at the catering staff and half a dozen house elves taking cover beneath the dining table.

It turned out that the company that did the decorating were huge Tornadoes fans while the catering staff sat firmly behind the Windborne Wasps. Very soon arguments were struck up about a match the previous week, the decorators strongly bemoaning the referee and the catering staff retaliating with crude chants. Before long the hexes were flying and the grand hall was chaotic.

Eventually the organisers managed to calm things down but the catering staff promptly resigned and left the castle on the grounds that they would not serve food to Tornado scum.

The organisers were left high and dry with no food and the ball starting the very next day.

"Whatever shall we do?" They cried. "We could never get another chef from the agency on this short notice!"

"Don't be ridiculous." I had said, striding forwards and pulling on an apron. "We shall have to do it ourselves."

"Bravo Ginny!" They had chorused, "What a team player, I can't boil and egg myself."

And with that they had all trailed out of the door. Leaving me alone in the huge kitchen surrounded by fifty or so lobsters that needed preparing for the next morning and not a single offer of help from anyone.

"I was very proud of you, you know Gin." Harry said, pulling me back to the present.

"Yes, I know you were Harry." I said through clenched teeth. Remembering his glowing face as he trundled off with the rest of them to the parlour in his over-the-top robes and crooked glasses.

He settled happily back into his chair and picked up the paper again.

"Just remember," He said solemnly. "We deserve the best Gin."

Taking this as my cue to leave I scooped James into my arms and carried him to the back door. I was just wrestling him into his jacket when Harry looked up yet again.

"Where are you going this early?" He asked, bemused. Harry could not understand anyone that was out and about before ten am.

"We were just heading off to the park for a bit of a stroll." I said, pulling my own jacket around my shoulders.

"And then?" He enquired.

I paused, my mind racing for an excuse.

"On to Luna's house. Thought we would visit them to see how her new art display is going."

He grunted, convinced, and went back to his paper. Harry approved of Luna, actually she was the only one of my friends he did approve of, and he was more than happy for me to trundle over there with James in tow. In actual fact I was heading out to see Hermione. But Harry didn't need to know, they hadn't spoken in years.

"Right, we're off. See you after play."

I paused. _See you after play? _Blimey I was even starting to talk like him now. I well and truly needed to get as far away from this marriage as I possibly could.

Shaking my head I took James hand and led him out the door and into the fresh spring morning.


End file.
